


Eyes Like Fireflies || Teen Wolf

by talia571



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Badass, F/M, Fireflies, Gen, Kitsune, Mysterious Powers, Nogitsune, Oni, Teen Wolf, Werewolves, season three part two
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:10:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talia571/pseuds/talia571
Summary: Kayla Crawford is a student at Beacon Hills High School. She's been trying to ignore her strange abilities but with sudden negative feelings towards someone she was once so close to, she can no longer ignore those abilities. With the help of Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin and Allison Argent, Kayla learns more about her true nature and attempts to uncover the truth about her role in the supernatural world. Rated mature for language, sexuality and violence.Based off of season 3 of MTV's Teen Wolf.





	1. Prologue-Dreaming

**Prologue :: Dreaming**

Light blinded me through the window in my boyfriend, Stiles’ bedroom. I rolled over to look at him. His mouth was open and he was muttering something unintelligible.  
“Stiles, wake up. We have to go to school.” I told him. He whimpered. I rolled my eyes and stood up. I searched for my bra on the floor, putting it back on my chest. I took one of Stiles’ plaid shirts and buttoned it on.  
“You just missed seeing me shirtless, Stiles.” I told him. He just whimpered, again. I chuckled as I slipped my black underwear back on. I tripped over Stiles’ jeans, but instead of falling on my face, I somersaulted and landed nimbly on my feet. Ever since I had agreed to join Derek Hale’s pack, I’ve had some very bizarre abilities. A while ago, while there was a homicidal lizard creature roaming the streets of Beacon Hills, a man named Derek Hale invited me into his pack of werewolves. I had already known about the werewolf world due to Scott McCall, Stiles’ best friend and Stiles’ crazy adventures. At the time, I had wanted to be powerful. So I had agreed to become a werewolf. The bite didn’t change me into a werewolf like it should’ve. The bite either turns you into a werewolf, or it kills you. For me, it didn’t do anything. I’m not a werewolf, but I think I’m something. I’ve gained some strange abilities ever since Derek bit me. Even though I wasn’t a werewolf, Derek had let me stay in his pack. He tried to help me figure out what I was, but we never found out. Eventually, I realized how much of a douchebag Derek was so I left his pack to join Scott’s. Scott, recently became an alpha and not just any alpha, a true alpha. A true alpha is a werewolf who acquires the alpha status by strength of character. They don’t kill to become one. That was the type of alpha I wanted to follow, not some douchebag like Derek Hale.  
Currently, I was helping my packmates relieve themselves of a darkness inside them. Not too long ago, shortly around the time that Scott became an alpha, there was a dark druid called a Darach. The Darach was sacrificing people to give itself more power. Scott, Stiles himself and Scott’s ex-girlfriend, Allison temporarily sacrificed themselves to save their parents, which the Darach was holding hostage to sacrifice them. Ever since they ‘sacrificed’ themselves, they have felt a powerful darkness inside them and I want to help them deal with it. They’ve been helping me solve my mystery so I wanted to help them with theirs but there was a problem with helping them. For some reason, their darkness made me uncomfortable. I didn’t know whether it was associated with my mysterious powers or if I was just being weird, but my body was trying to avoid their darkness and I wanted to figure out why.  
After I was fully dressed once again, I decided to try and get Stiles up again.  
“Stiles, come on. Remember, you said you would drop me off at home this morning so I could get ready for school.” I reminded him. “If you don’t get up, I’m going to push you off of the bed.” I threatened. Suddenly, I began to feel very nervous. I knew I was picking it up from Stiles. Ever since the darkness filled them, I could pick up on their emotions and feelings. I was sensitive to Stiles, Scott and Allison’s emotions. “Stiles…” I gently shook him. Stiles had been getting nightmares every night since sacrificing himself. Because of the nightmares, I had been staying the night with him. His dad knew I stayed over and he didn’t mind because he knew about the darkness and the nightmares. Stiles began sobbing in his sleep. “Stiles!” I raised my voice. Stiles shot up, screaming. I rushed over to the bed, taking him into my arms. Stiles had tears streaming down his face as he continued to scream. ‘Shh...Stiles! It’s okay. You’re okay!” He was trying to run away, but I kept holding him close. His arms flailed around, trying to grab at anything, almost like a baby in a grocery store. Stiles’ father, the town Sheriff, ran into the room.  
“Stiles!” His father shouted, running over to him. “Stiles, you’re going to be okay!”  
“Stiles!” We shouted as Stiles continued screaming.


	2. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kayla continues to notice the effects of the darkness in her friends.

**01\. Wake Up**

I walked towards the school with Stiles, keeping a close eye on him. I continued to watch him as we headed to to the front door.  
“I’m fine, okay? It was just a nightmare.” Stiles tried to reassure me.  
“You were screaming like a fucking psychopath, Stiles.” I countered. “Your nightmares are related to the sacrifices.”   
“Why would you think that?” Stiles asked.  
“I can feel it.” I replied. “Remember, I can feel your darkness. I can feel Scott’s darkness and Allison’s too. It’s not a fun time.” I looked up to see Scott running with a panicked expression on his face.  
“Woah woah, hey Scott. Are you alright?” Stiles calmed Scott down, grabbing him by the shoulders.  
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Scott nodded, sighing.  
“No, you’re not. It’s happening to you, too. Isn’t it?” Stiles asked.  
“What?” Scott raised his eyebrow.  
“You’re seeing shit.” I replied.  
“How’d you know?” Scott asked.  
“Because it’s happening to all three of you.” A voice answered behind us. I turned around to see one of our packmates, Lydia, standing with Allison. Lydia’s supernatural abilities still seemed strange to me. Not too long ago, Lydia was almost murdered by an evil woman known as the Darach. The Darach had referred to Lydia as a Banshee. So basically, Lydia screams all the time.  
“Well, well. Look who’s no longer the crazy one.” Lydia chuckled as we entered the school.  
“We’re not crazy.” Allison disagreed.  
“Hallucinating? Sleep paralysis? Yeah, you guys are fine.” Lydia rolled her eyes. I chuckled at her statement, earning a scowl from Stiles.  
“We did die and come back to life. That’s bound to have some side effects, right?” Scott defended the group of darkened teens. We had all worked hard to ensure that most of us were in similar classes throughout the year. After all we’d been through, it was nice to have someone nearby to speak about the supernatural to. Scott, Stiles and I took our seats in history while Allison and Lydia headed to the art room.   
“Good morning, everyone.” An unfamiliar man greeted us.  
“Must be the new teacher.” I guessed. Our last teacher, Mr.Westover, was sacrificed by the Darach to feed her powers. Hopefully, this teacher will have better luck.  
“My name is Mr.Yukimura.” The teacher introduced himself. “I’ll be taking over for your previous history teacher.”  
“Mr.Yuki-what-a?” I asked him, earning laughter from the class. I knew the laughter wasn’t at my expense, but at Mr.Yuki-whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is.   
“Mr.Yuki-more-ah.” He repeated. I nodded at him, signalling to him that I heard what he said this time. “So, like I said, I’m your new history teacher. My family and I just moved here three weeks ago. I’m sure, by now, you all know my daughter, Kira. Or, you might not since she’s never actually mentioned anyone from school, or brought home a friend for that matter.” Everyone in the class, including me, turned to stare at the quiet girl at the back of the room. Her eyes widened at the stares before she covered her face and rested her head on the desk.   
“Awkward.” I winced at the awkwardness radiating from the father-daughter exchange my new teacher just had.  
“Well, there she is. Anyways, let’s begin with American history at the turn of the twentieth century.” Mr.Yuki-more-ah turned to the chalkboard. I stared at the board with extreme amounts of displeasure as he began writing notes about information I didn’t give a shit about.  
After history, the three of us stopped by Stiles’ locker. While Stiles struggled with his lock, Scott was staring off into space and I was left wondering why I was even friends with these two, let alone dating one of them. I reminded Stiles what his lock combination was.  
“I know what it is, I just can't figure it out. The numbers are gone.” Stiles frowned, staring at the lock. I stayed quiet, knowing his darkness was screwing up his brain. I looked over at Scott who’s eyes were a deep crimson.  
“Scott, what the fuck are you doing? Put your fucking laser eyes away.” I hissed, staring at his pre-werewolf mode eyes.  
“What? I'm not doing anything.” Scott shrugged.  
“Dude, your eyes are glowing.” Stiles gasped.  
“But I'm not even doing anything!” Scott panicked. As Scott began to panic, I began to feel annoyed.   
“Get him the fuck out of here!” I growled. I swore all the time, but it was ten times worse when I was angry. We grabbed Scott and threw him into an empty classroom. Scott ripped off his hoodie and pushed desks in front of him, blocking us from him. His claws extended and he began to growl.  
“Stay away from me! I don't know if I can control it!” Scott screeched at us. I stared Scott down, filled with rage. I couldn't help it. I was always a bitch; I have been since birth. It was a whole different story since the three of them ‘sacrificed’ themselves. When their darkness acted up, I felt very upset around them. I typically felt angry, rather than sad.  
“Kayla, I'm sorry.” Scott spoke as his wolf features retracted and blood dripped from his fingers. “I can't control it. I wasn't trying to make you angry.” As Scott calmed down, so did I.  
“I'm not angry.” I told him.  
“I could smell it on you. You were practically exploding with anger.” Scott pointed out.  
“I'm sorry. It's the darkness.” I replied.  
“Okay, I didn't realize how much our darkness affected you.” Scott responded.   
“I don't know why I feel your darkness. For some reason, whenever you guys hallucinate or act out around me, I suddenly feel furious or upset.” I confessed.  
“We all need to keep an eye on each other.” Scott said, looking around at both of us. Stiles and I nodded.  
“This isn't just in our heads.” Stiles frowned. “This is real and it's starting to get bad for me, too. I'm not just having nightmares, I keep having dreams where I literally have to scream myself awake. Sometimes, I'm not even sure if I'm ever actually waking up.” I shuddered, remembering his screaming this morning.  
“What do you mean?” Scott asked.  
“Do you know how to tell if you're dreaming? You can't read in dreams. More and more in these past few days, I've been having trouble reading. It's like I can't see the words or put letters in order.” Stiles explained.  
“Stiles, can you read that?” I asked, pointing to the chalkboard.  
“No. I can't read a thing.” Stiles answered grimly. Sighing, I took his hand as we walked to our next class.  
Relieved that school was over for the day, I headed home and went straight up to my bedroom. I hooked my cellphone up to my speakers and put my playlist on full volume. Seeing me for the first time, one would assume I loved heavy metal. I wore a lot of black clothing including my signature leather jacket. That wasn't the case. I loved rap music. There was no way I would tell anyone though. I had a reputation to maintain and I didn't need people prying into my personal life with information like my taste in music. As far as anyone was concerned, I didn't like anyone or anything. That wasn't true, of course. I liked Stiles, sometimes, and I liked rap music. I liked Allison and Lydia as well, but only when they weren't inviting me shopping. I liked shopping, but not in girly clothing stores like Macy’s. I liked Scott, which was evident considering I left Derek’s pack to join Scott’s. Obviously Derek was a shitty alpha considering two of his betas died and the rest of the pack switched to Scott’s. Isaac Lahey, a fellow student, went to live with Scott after he left Derek’s pack. If only I could go live with the McCall’s too. Melissa McCall, Scott’s mother, was much better company than my mom. She annoyed me. She continuously talks about having more children. My dad, who I actually like despite his agreement for more kids, doesn't talk about kids twenty-four seven. My mom has been wanting another child since I was born, but she has been unable to procreate. Thank goodness for that, I thought.   
Pushing my mom’s annoying wish for more children aside, I listened to the rap song that was currently booming from my speakers. I followed the vocalist easily, turning this song into a duet.   
The next day, I got a call from Stiles. I picked up the phone immediately.   
“Yeah?” I answered.  
“We're going out after school.” Stiles told me.  
“I'm pretty sure that's not how you ask someone on a date, Stiles.” I sighed.  
“No no. With Scott.” Stiles responded.  
“So he can third wheel?” I teased, now knowing Stiles wasn't talking about hanging out or a date.  
“What? No, we're going to the Tate’s house.” Stiles sighed in frustration. I muted my phone briefly so I could chuckle at his frustration.  
“Wow, it's a damn party.” I commented after unmuting my phone.  
“Oh my god.” Stiles groaned.   
“I'm just messing with you, Stiles. What do you want?” I laughed.  
“My dad wants to do this investigation at the Tate house. He needs us to sneak in and search one of the rooms.” Stiles told me.  
“Why all of us? We're more likely to get caught if there are more of us.” I frowned.  
“Well….because you're my girlfriend and I don't want you to feel left out.” Stiles replied. I rolled my eyes.  
“Okay, then. I have to head to school. See you there.” I hung up, still chuckling.  
I sat in my desk on Stiles’ right in Economics. I hated this class, mostly because I wasn't doing very well. Everyone was failing this class because the savage and brutal teacher, Coach Finstock taught the class. He coached Lacrosse as well. Finstock was known for his sarcastic remarks and insults directed at students, a student named Greenberg more than anyone else.  
About fifteen minutes into class, Finstock was already rambling about really boring stuff. I looked over at Stiles who was intensely writing notes. I raised my eyebrow at him, but said nothing. I didn’t want to break his concentration which was so rare. Scott was staring intensely at Stiles, concern written all over his face.  
“Stilinski, are you paying attention?” Finstock asked Stiles, staring angrily at him. Stiles continued writing.  
“Stiles!” I hissed, trying to get his attention.  
“Stilinski!” Coach roared. Stiles didn’t move, he just stared at his paper with fearful eyes as he continued writing. I looked at what Stiles was writing and my eyes widened. He had continuously written ‘wake up’. It was written in capital letters, small letters, diagonal, horizontal, vertical. He had written it in different ways, but it always said ‘wake up’.

**WAKE UP wake up WaKe Up Wake Up  
WAKE UP wake up WaKe Up Wake Up  
WAKE UP wake up WaKe Up Wake Up  
WAKE UP wake up WaKe Up Wake Up**

I took the sheet of paper from him and he continued writing on the desk, ignoring the absence of paper. Coach’s face twisted in fury. He brought his whistle to his lips and blew it straight in Stiles’ face.  
“STILINSKI!” Coach screamed. Stiles’ head shot up to look at him.  
“Huh?” He blinked.  
“I asked you a question.” Finstock replied, frowning.  
“Sorry, Coach. What was it?” Stiles asked.   
“It was ‘Stilinski, are you paying attention?’” He repeated.  
“Well, I am now.” Stiles nodded.  
“Stilinski, stop reminding me why I drink...every night and stop writing on the desk for god’s sake!” He screamed, turning to face the rest of the class. “Now, who else wants to try the question on the board?” Scott and I stared directly at Stiles, concern in both of our expressions.  
“I'm okay.” Stiles assured us. “I just fell asleep for a second.  
“Look at your desk, Stiles.” I frowned.  
“You weren't asleep.” Scott told him. Stiles looked down at his desk, frowning when he saw the words scratched into the desk. I passed him the sheet of paper which he had filled with ‘wake up’. Stiles’ lips pressed tightly together when he saw the sheet.  
At lunch, our pack had been discussing the surrogate sacrifices’ symptoms and hallucinations. Mr.Yuki...whatever’s daughter Kira had been eavesdropping and came over to talk to us about something called bardo. Apparently, bardo is the state between life and death. After that weirdness and after classes were over, Scott, Stiles and I went to the vet clinic. The vet, who also specializes in werewolves and happens to be a druid, may be able to help us with the darkness issue.  
“Everyone was using sign language. It was the same movements over and over.” Stiles told Dr.Deaton, describing the hallucination he had had while he was busy writing ‘wake up’ all over his paper.  
“It sounds to me like you're subconscious is trying to communicate with you.” Deaton commented.  
“Well, how do I ask my subconscious to use a language I know?” Stiles asked sarcastically.   
“Did you try using please?” I responded with equal sass.  
“Do you remember what the signs looked like?” Deaton asked. “The movement and placement of the hands?”  
“You know sign language?” Scott asked incredulously.   
“I know a little. I'll try my best.” The vet replied. I watched as Stiles held his right pointer finger up and used his left to circle around the right finger.  
“That was first movement.” Stiles explained.  
“That's ‘when’.” Deaton nodded, waiting for Stiles to continue.  
“Then it was this.” Stiles held his palms outwards as if he was attempting to push someone, but with his fingers pressed against each other. He then pulled his left hand back slightly before returning it beside the right hand.  
“Door.” Deaton told him. Stiles brought his left thumb to his chin and brought the thumb downwards, away from his face then repeated the palm action.  
“That's it.” Stiles finished.  
“When is a door not a door?” Deaton stated.   
“When is a door not a door?” Stiles repeated Deaton’s words with confusion.  
“A riddle.” I acknowledged. “Dammit I know I heard this one somewhere. It's on the tip of my tongue. Don't tell m-”  
“When it's ajar.” Scott answered for me.  
“Fuck!” I growled. “What the hell, wolfboy?”  
“Sorry.” Scott smiled sheepishly.  
“My subconscious is trying to tell me a riddle?” Stiles asked in disbelief.  
“Not necessarily.” Deaton disagreed. “When you went under the water, you crossed from unconsciousness to a kind of superconsciousness. You essentially opened a door to your mind.”  
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked, unsure of what he was talking about.  
“I think it means the door is still open.” Scott guessed.  
“Ajar.” Deaton corrected.  
“A door into our minds?” Stiles asked.  
“I am so glad I didn't sacrifice myself. It's enough feeling your darkness.” I remarked.  
“Kayla, are you saying you can actually feel their darkness?” Deaton furrowed his eyebrows.  
“Every time one of them has a hallucination or something, I feel angry or upset. I get this feeling that I can't describe.” I explained. “Why? Do you know what it means?”  
“No. I've never come across something like this before.” Deaton shook his head. “I have a theory, but I don't know for certain if this is the case. Scott, Stiles and Allison all required someone to not only push them under the water, but guide them back out; someone to act as a tether or anchor. You were Stiles’ anchor. The bond may have been so strong, you have connections to his darkness, too.”   
“I don't know about that. Half of the time, I want to punch Stiles in the face.” I remarked.  
“Wait, what?” Stiles whipped around to face me. I shrugged.  
“What I do know is that you all need to close those doors in your mind and you need to shut them quickly.” The vet warned us.  
“It's only going to get worse, isn't it?” I asked, already knowing the answer.  
“I'm afraid so.” Deaton replied. “It will probably get worse for you, too.”   
“Well, fuck.”


	3. Wreckage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff has a job for Stiles, Kayla and Scott.

**02\. Wreckage**

Scott, Stiles and I all headed to the Sheriff's station. The Sheriff poked his head out of his office.  
“Great. Get in here.” He beckoned us inside the office.  
“So what do you need help with?” Scott asked. Clearly Stiles hadn't told him our search and destroy-minus the destroy- mission.  
“Breaking into a house and ransacking the place.” I answered.  
“Really?” Scott’s eyes widened.  
“No.” The Sheriff replied, sighing. “No wonder you like her, Stiles.” Stiles grinned a toothy grin and slid his arm around my waist. I raised my fist and he brought his fist to mine. I grinned back at him.  
“Then what are we doing?” Scott asked.  
“While I talk to Mr.Tate, you guys are going to sneak into his daughter’s bedroom and try and catch a scent.” Sheriff Stilinski explained.  
“That sounds a lot like breaking in and ransacking.” Scott commented, his voice unsure.  
“Don't like it, Scott? Call the cops.” I shrugged.  
“Actually, the way you put it makes it sound really creepy. All we need now is a windowless white van.” Stiles commented.   
“Why are we doing this?” Scott asked.  
“Because eight years ago, almost an entire family got murdered. One of the bodies, a young girl named Malia, was never found. There's enough evidence to have me thinking that a werewolf may have caused the accident.” Stilinski explained.  
“It was Derek.” I told him. “Wait, nevermind. He was a teen then. It was Peter.” I grimaced, remembering Derek’s murderer of an uncle.  
“Anyways, it could have dragged her body away. If you could somehow get a lock on her scent and help find her body, it might provide the missing clue.” Sheriff Stilinski continued.  
“But what if it was a werewolf?” Stiles asked.   
“Then it was totally Peter.” I replied. “Come on. Peter is always causing shit.”  
“If it was a werewolf, then there's a murderer out there that needs to be caught.” Stilinski answered.   
“I still feel like Peter has something to do with this. Watch, when we're at the Tate house, he'll come down the stairs or appear in the window and start calmly speaking about murdering people.” I hated Peter Hale. I hated him more than I hated Derek Hale. Admittedly, Derek was becoming less of an asshole but I still didn't like him much.  
“I hope not. I hate Peter.” Stiles shook his head as we followed the Sheriff outside. Stilinski climbed into his police cruiser while Scott and I followed the younger Stilinski into his crappy, old Jeep. Scott opened the passenger seat door, but I sat down in the seat instead.  
“I'm the alpha, now.” I told him. Stiles burst out laughing beside me as Scott sat in the back of the Jeep. Stiles drove behind his father, heading towards the Tate house.   
The police car in front of us parked on the driveway. We parked a distance away, invisible to anyone inside the house. I watched as the sheriff got out and knocked on the front door. After he entered the house, we exited the car. We snuck up the rural driveway and I dived into a somersault, hiding behind the sheriff's car.  
“What the hell was that?” Stiles asked, voice low.  
“I have no idea.” I responded, wondering about the extent of my abilities. We snuck around the vehicle and up to the door. After Scott gave us a nod, we entered the house, sneaking up the staircase. I could hear voices downstairs, but no voices upstairs. We located the room we were supposed to and Scott began sniffing various items. I searched through photographs and any visual evidence that would be useful.  
“Are you getting anything?” Stiles asked Scott.   
“All I'm getting is some kind of animal smell.” Scott wrinkled his nose.  
“What kind of animal?” Stiles asked.  
“Dog.” Scott’s eyes widened as they trailed behind me. I spun around when I heard growling. A Rottweiler stood at the door.  
“Get rid of it.” Stiles hissed.  
“Hi Puppy.” Scott said nervously. “Wait, me?” His eyes bulged.  
“Yes, you. Glow your eyes at it or something.” Stiles suggested.  
“I can't. I don't have control.” Scott panicked. While the two girls argued and the dog began to bark, I crouched down towards it.  
“Hi, Apollo.” I eyed its collar. He tilted his head, curious at my knowledge.  
“Holy crap. She's going to get eaten and we're gonna have to make a run for it.” Stiles gasped. I ignored his comment, extending my hand delicately so the dog could sniff it. Hesitantly, Apollo placed his nose against my hand and sniffed. His docked tail shook, demonstrating our new friendship.  
“Like I said, McCall. I'm the alpha now.” I smirked. Apollo growled at the two boys. He barked again, baring his teeth.  
“Alpha? More like omega.” Stiles commented.  
“Are you disowning me?” I asked.  
“So, I own you?” He smirked.  
“Hell no. I'm going to set this dog on you.” I growled.  
“Then you'll definitely be an omega.” He retorted.  
“Apollo, kill.” I commanded. Apollo relaxed at the sound of my voice. He looked at me with wonder.  
“Good job, Cesar Milan.” Stiles snorted.  
“Do you want him to bark again?” I threatened. After a moment of silence, I said, “That's what I thought.” While Scott continued to sniff, I crouched down beside Apollo and scratched his chin. I grinned at him, tempted to stuff him in my jacket and run. I looked up to see Stiles smiling down at Apollo and I.  
“Stiles, I want one. Nadine would never let me have a dog so I'm moving in.” I spoke my mother's name with disgust as I cracked a joke about moving in with Stiles. Stiles continued to grin down at me.  
“Your dad's leaving, we better go.” Scott interrupted our moment. I scowled at Scott, patted Apollo’s head and exited the Tate house with my pack. We met up with the Sheriff by the vehicles.  
“I'm sorry. If it wasn't that long ago, I might have been able to do it.” Scott apologized to the Sheriff.   
“It's okay. It was a long shot anyways. It was a pretty terrible idea. I think I just ripped open a wound in that poor man. I shouldn't have brought you here. I don't know what I was thinking. Thanks for trying.” Stilinski sighed before getting into his vehicle. “See you at home.” He nodded before driving home.  
“Well, shit.” I sighed.  
“Don't lots of cases go unsolved?” Scott asked.  
“Yeah, I think he just thought this is one he could figure out now.” Stiles explained, sadness in his tone. I looked at him curiously, realizing something was on his mind. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I was a bitch. The other one percent of the time I comforted Stiles. I slid my hand into his, watching him closely.  
“Why is it so important now?” Scott asked as we walked towards the Jeep.  
“He wants to be able to solve one more case while he's still Sheriff.” Stiles sighed.  
“What do you mean ‘still Sheriff’?” Scott’s eyes narrowed. We all got into the Jeep then Stiles reversed down the drive.  
“Your dad put mine under investigation for impeachment.” Stiles confessed, exhaling.  
“What?” Scott gasped, anger radiating from him. The rest of the ride was silent. Stiles dropped Scott off at home and then took us to his house.  
“Are you okay?” I asked him, awkward due to expressing care.  
“I just need to take my mind off it.” He muttered. I smirked and pushed my lips on his. He produced a happy noise, leaning into the kiss.  
“Is this a good distraction?” I asked between kisses.  
“My dad's home.” He replied, stepping back.  
“Alright. We can do something else then.” I said, sitting on the bed. Stiles’ lips parted in shock. He almost looked offended. I stared at him innocently and watched as his lip twitched. He stormed towards me, attaching his lips to mine. I mentally chuckled, pleased my plan worked. He pushed me gently down on the bed, working his lips down my neck.   
“That's what I thought.” I grinned, lifting his shirt up and off him. Stiles flung my shirt off of me, returning his lips to mine. The door burst open to reveal Scott fucking McCall. I groaned in annoyance, ready to punch out my alpha.  
“Oh my god!” Scott gasped, looking away.  
“Scott, I get you’re lonely but you can't join. Sorry.” I sighed.  
“I-I wasn't trying to- I didn't mean- I-” Scott stuttered.  
“You were minutes away from seeing my tits, Scott. Or worse. You're seventeen for gods sake. You should know to knock first by now.” I sighed.  
“I'm sorry!” He panicked. I threw my shirt back over my chest, seeing the disappointment on Stiles’ face.  
“Anyways, aside from being so close to wishing you had Deucalion’s eyesight, what are you doing here?” I asked, referring to the blind alpha that used to roam around Beacon Hills. Deucalion had tried to recruit Scott, but he obviously failed.  
“I was going to tell you that we're going to go look for a body, a dead body.” Scott replied, his cheeks red.  
“We as in…?” I raised my eyebrow.  
“The three of us.” He responded. I nodded, following him out of Stiles’ house. Stiles trailed behind us, keys in hand.  
We parked at the edge of Beacon Hills preserve and got out of the Jeep. We wandered through the woods, looking for any clues relating to the Malia Tate case. A high-pitched howl sounded through the forest causing Stiles to punch Scott’s phone which he was using as a GPS out of Scott’s hands. The phone flew through the air landing down in a large puddle. Scott glared at Stiles, climbing down the muddy ditch to retrieve his phone.  
“Ha!” I snorted. This time, Scott glared at me. “Karma’s a bitch, eh Scott?”  
“Sorry, buddy.” Stiles apologized, “I hate coyotes so much. They always sound like they're mauling some tiny, helpless animal.” He shivered as Scott wiped the mud from his phone.  
“It still works.” Scott grinned. We continued to follow his GPS, trekking through the mud and grass.  
“Pass me the flashlight. I think I see it.” Stiles held his hand out, waiting for the flashlight. I looked through the trees to see a faint outline of a car that had been flipped over.  
“Stiles, can you see it without the light?” I asked, stopping. I could never see well in the dark before, not even after I got bitten. I hoped I was just being the crazy bitch I was.  
“No, that's why I asked for the flashlight. All I see is a slight glint from the moon.” Stiles replied with sass.  
“Well, I can.” I sighed. Stiles and I stood side by side, looking at the exact same object but I could see it better than he could.  
“Kayla, your eyes…” Scott gasped, staring at me.  
“Piss off. Don't joke with me right now.” I raised my eyebrows in alert. My eyes felt strange, almost warm. “I'm not a werewolf.” Stiles stood by Scott, studying my face.   
“No, but you're something.” Scott commented. I took Scott’s phone out of his hands and switched it off to view my reflection in the screen. A faint, dull yellow-green colour surrounded my pupils.  
“Why are they green?” I asked, chills running over my entire body.  
“I don't know.” Scott shook his head slowly. “We can tell Deaton tomorrow.” I nodded my head, trying to shake the nervousness away. I wasn't used to feeling nervous and it was a feeling I never wanted to feel again.  
“Let's just keep going.” I suggested. We continued to approach the flipped car. I looked at my reflection in the destroyed metal. My eyes had gone back to normal. My eyes travelled down the thick scratch marks that had destroyed the vehicle. Scott traced his fingers down the scratches.  
“Animal claws would be much closer together.” Stiles commented.  
“I guess Papa Sheriff was right.” I agreed. “We've got a werewolf on our hands.”  
“Great.” Stiles sighed.  
“What is that?” Scott spoke up, staring at the car’s interior. I looked inside the vehicle to see something pale hanging from the seat. Scott removed it from the seat to reveal that it was just a baby doll. I grimaced as thoughts of my mother filled my mind. We all silently studied the doll, looking for anything useful on it.  
“I'm hungry!” The demonic children's toy spoke after a few moments of dead silence. The boys screamed at the toy.  
“Fuck!” I cursed, snatching the toy from Scott and launching it towards the car. My heart pounded, trying to recover from the unexpected baby speech.  
“I think I just had a minor heart attack.” Stiles gasped for breath, regaining himself. I helped him off of the forest floor which he had fallen on. While helping him up, I had been tempted to let go of his hand and send him crashing back down. I didn't drop him but I silently wished I had. A low growling sounded from across the forest.  
“Please tell me you guys see that.” Scott’s nervous voice spoke to Stiles and I.  
“See wh-” I stopped when I saw a small, tan creature snarling at us. The coyote darted off, Scott close on its tail.  
“Scott, wait! Wait!” Stiles called after him.  
“For fuck’s sake.” I slapped the palm of my hand to my forehead. I thought about chasing after him, but he was fast and I wasn't up for chasing wolves and coyotes. “I'm not going after him.” I let Stiles know as I planted myself on a rock.  
“How am I even surprised?” Stiles sighed. I shrugged, pulling out my mp3. I played my DMX album after putting on my headphones. I lay back on the boulder, closing my eyes. I felt Stiles sit beside me on the ground. I ran my hands through his hair that had grown out so much since I first met him. When I had first met him, he had a buzzcut. When we started dating, his hair had grown out slightly, shorter than it was now. We started dating while people were getting sacrificed, romantic isn't it? It was around the time when the Darach was sacrificing virgins. Stiles had been a virgin and I didn't feel like him dying so I slept with him. We had been at his house discussing the sacrifices and I randomly kissed him which led to other things. It wasn't the most romantic thing, but it was our story and it was good enough for us. That had made us realize that we enjoyed each other's company more than we had let on. We had never actually made it official, we just kind of knew what we were. Everyone did.  
Like I had said to Deaton, half of the time I wanted to punch Stiles but the other half I had genuine affection for him. It could be called love, but I preferred to call it tolerance. Right now was one of those moments where I tolerated him. I swivelled myself around to face him. Before he could make me want to throat-punch him, I kissed him. It was almost like a weird version of a spiderman kiss. I was lying on my stomach on a rock, kissing him while his back was to the rock. His neck was tilted back so I could reach his lips more easily. I removed my lips from his and continued to inspect his dark brown hair which was gelled in the front. I thought about suggesting that he get a trim, but I didn't want him to get another buzzcut. As much as I hated to admit it sometimes, he was really hot with his hair like this.   
I noticed that Stiles was staring at me, smirking. He must've noticed the attraction in my eyes, I decided. My eyebrows pulled together and I glared at him, silently daring him to smirk again.   
“Guys!” Scott came racing down the ditch. I whipped my head around to face him, eyebrow raised. “It's Malia!”   
“What?” I asked.  
“The coyote...it's Malia Tate.” He repeated, only heightening the shock and confusion.


	4. Attitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kayla, Stiles and Scott discover something to due with the Tate case.

**03\. Attitude**

Stiles, Scott and I searched around the woods for anything that had to do with Malia.  
“Look! There!” Scott pointed to a small den on the forest floor.  
“It's a coyote den.” Stiles acknowledged.   
“Werecoyote.” Scott corrected. A jacket was crumpled in the leaves inside the den. I crouched down to inspect the den. A small jacket sat crumpled in the den.   
“This is Malia’s.” Stiles reminded us, picking up the jacket. “She was wearing it in one of the photos.”  
“We shouldn't be in here.” Scott announced suddenly.  
“What do you mean?” Stiles asked.  
“He means we need to get our asses out before we get eaten.” I rephrased Scott’s words. I stood up, brushing myself off.  
“I mean she's not going to come back now. We invaded her home. Our scent will be everywhere.” Scott explained.  
“If she's not coming back, where is she going to go?” Stiles asked.  
“I don't know.” Scott sighed.  
“Scott, is there room in your backyard?” I asked. He ignored my comment as did Stiles.  
“We need some help here.” Scott decided. “I haven't been able to reach Derek in a while and I think this is a bit out of Deaton’s league.”  
“And more in my dad's.” Stiles finished.  
“Well, let's call up Papa Stilinski.” I suggested. Stiles picked up his phone and dialed the number of his father.  
“Yo, Dad. We found something you're gonna want to see.” Stiles spoke then proceeded to tell the Sheriff our location.  
The police arrived and we filled the Sheriff in on what we had witnessed this evening.  
“You're sure it was her?” Stilinski asked, referring to the werecoyote.  
“I looked her right in the eyes. They glowed like mine.” Scott confirmed.  
“It makes sense.” Stiles added.  
“But it was a four-legged coyote, not a girl, right?” Sheriff Stilinski clarified, clearly sceptical.  
“Yeah but we haven't exactly figured that out yet.” Stiles shrugged.  
“If it was a full moon, anything could've happened.” Scott reminded us.  
“Think about it, Dad. They're driving, Malia starts to change, she gets out of control, the mom crashes and everybody dies.” Stiles tried to convince him.  
“Except for Malia.” Scott adds.  
“She blames herself, runs off feeling guilty then gets trapped in a coyote’s body.” Stiles continued.  
“That makes sense.” The Sheriff nodded as Stiles sighed with relief. “In a Chinese folktale!”  
“I wasn’t aware you read Chinese stories, Sheriff.” I commented. He narrowed his eyes at me before turning back to Stiles.  
“This is insane! I need this kept quiet. You three better not say a word about this. Especially to Mr.Tate!” Sheriff hissed.  
“Mr.Tate as in that guy right there or some other Mr.Tate?” I pointed to the black vehicle that had just pulled up, revealing Agent Asshole and Malia’s father. Eyes wide, the Sheriff whipped his head around to see the two I was speaking about.  
“Oh, hell.” Stilinski sighed, irritation radiating off of him.  
“It’s hers!” Mr.Tate gasped, running towards Stiles.  
“Actually, it’s mine.” I corrected him, looking at Stiles. “Oh, you meant the jacket.” I had completely forgotten about Malia’s coat. Stiles stared at me, a wild expression on his face.  
“It?” He raised his eyebrows. I shrugged, turning my attention back to Tate.  
“Dad.” Scott called out, trying to get the attention of Beacon Hills’ Father of the Year.  
“I’ll talk to you in a minute.” The Agent replied. “Also, I wouldn’t mind hearing how your mom’s okay with you running around the woods this late.” This enraged me. This was the first time I had ever seen Scott’s father, meaning that he clearly wasn’t around. Therefore, he wasn’t exactly playing a father role. What right did he have to parent Scott now?  
“Hey! Special Agent Hotchner!” I growled, staring directly at him.  
“Oh, god.” Stiles sighed, knowing I was about to sass him all the way back to his childhood.  
“I really don’t get that reference.” Agent McCall sighed, a bored expression staring back at me.  
“Criminal Fucking Minds.” I told him.  
“I suggest you don’t swear around me.” He warned.  
“Telling me not to swear is like telling you not to be a father. It’s who I am. Oh, wait. You’re not Scott’s father. You’re just a man who fucked his mom so she could have the brilliant son that is Scott McCall. You can’t tell Scott what to do and you sure as hell can’t judge Melissa on her parenting. Good day, Donatello.” I saluted him.  
“Watch yourself.” He growled, narrowing his eyes to raged slits.  
“I do that every morning when I get ready. You know, mirrors.” I gave him a thumbs up. Sheriff Stilinski gave me a warning look before beckoning Agent Douchebag over to discuss the case.  
“Oh my god.” Stiles gasped as if he had been holding his breath. I turned to face them, finding faces that looked as I’d just murdered Scott’s dad rather than sassed him.  
“You are going to end up in prison.” Stiles warned me.  
“That’s okay. Piper Chapman will be my bitch.” I joked.  
“What?”  
“Orange is the New Black.” I explained my reference.  
“Oh. You know, that was very disturbing when you talked about Melissa and...Scott’s, uh, dad.” Stiles cringed.  
“That is how babies are made, Stiles.” I reminded him.  
“I know, but-”  
“Just let it go. It’s okay.” I patted his head twice before approaching Scott. “I hate your father.” I told him.  
“Me too.” Scott sighed. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”  
“What are bros for?” I laughed.  
“I’m not quite sure you’re a bro, being a girl and all.” Stiles commented.  
“Fine. Girl-Bro.” I rolled my eyes. “Well, let’s get out of here. It smells like ass.” I covered my nose, walking away from the den, Scott and Stiles following with the same shocked expressions on their faces.  
I sat in History class before the bell was due to ring. Only Scott, Kira and a few others were in here. I looked over to see Kira handing Scott a giant stack of papers.  
“Didn’t think you were the kind of person to make nerds do your homework, Scotty.” I commented, knowing he could hear but she couldn’t. He scowled at me before returning his attention to Kira. Mr.Yuki-don’t-remember was returning to his desk after handing Kira the papers which she was giving Scott. Both Kira and Scott’s cheeks were reddening while I sat and laughed. I was glad Scott was moving on but at the same time, I didn’t want someone new to join our group. Allison and Scott were the kind of couple you see on justgirlythings with the words ‘goals’ written on it. I didn’t envy their relationship, but they clearly loved each other very much. Their relationship was the definition of perfect until one Chris Argent screwed it all up.  
Mr.Yuki-more-ah cleared his throat after everyone had taken their seats. I was watching his lips move as he started the class, but I wasn’t listening to the words those lips were forming. Suddenly, Stiles stood up. My heart began to pound and I could feel my stomach tighten. Why was I suddenly so anxious? Just a few seconds ago, I was bored and didn’t want to be here. Now, I felt as if someone had just read all my secrets aloud.  
A sigh escaped my lips once I realized the source of my anxiety. Stiles. His hands trembled as he stood by the large textbook at the front of the room. Kira’s father, the teacher, had asked Stiles to read. Stiles begged Mr.I-Love-To-Humiliate-My-Socially-Awkward-Daughter to have someone else read but the teacher just encouraged Stiles further. Knuckles white as snow, Stiles clutched the podium for support. He looked at the textbook as if it were that scary bitch from The Grudge.  
I can’t read a thing, Stiles’ words bit into my mind. I looked at Scott who’s face mirrored my feelings. As Stiles’ breathing increased, Scott and I jumped out of our seats and raced over to Stiles.  
“Maybe we should take him to the Nurse’s office.” Scott suggested. Mr.History Man was too stunned to speak for a moment before he found his words.  
“One of you-” He started.  
“No. We’re both going. See you later, Yuki-something.” I argued, nodding at Scott. We took Stiles to the boys’ locker room a.k.a Scott’s favourite hangout.  
“Stiles, look at me. Is this a panic attack?” Scott stared at his best friend.  
“It’s a dream, it’s a dream. This is just a dream.” Stiles repeated.  
“No, it isn’t. This is real life, Stiles. Do you know how I know?” I took his hands. Scott looked at me with a small smile, seeming touched by my concern for my boyfriend.  
“How?” Stiles whispered.  
“Because Scott is here.” I answered. “I know you two are like brothers...strangely close and borderline Cersei and Jaime Lannister brothers, but I doubt you’d be dreaming about him. Especially in the boys’ locker room.” Scott narrowed his eyes.  
“Well, sorry. I’m not exactly good at caring.” I frowned. “But seriously, you’re not dreaming.”   
“Stiles, how can you tell if you’re dreaming or not?” Scott asked.  
“Your fingers. C-Count your fingers. You have extra fingers in dreams.” Stiles replied, his hands shaking like his voice.  
“Then, let’s count your fingers.” I took his hands in mine and held his right hand up.  
“Count with us.” Scott instructed.  
“One...Two…” He sighed, studying his shaking fingers.  
“Keep going.” Scott encouraged. I folded Stiles’ fingers down as he counted them, but that’s all I did. I wasn’t good at this whole comforting thing. In fact, all I would do is make it worse.  
“Three...Four...Five...” He counted as I slid his fingers down.  
“Next hand.” Scott nodded.  
“Six...Seven...Eight…” Stiles let out a shaky breath.  
“Eight? Then?” Scott urged him on.  
“Nine.” Stiles stared at his hand as I put his ninth finger down. “T-Ten. Ten. Ten fingers.” As I closed his hands into fists, his shoulders relaxed and so did ours.  
“You’re awake.” Scott told him, putting his hands on Stiles’ shoulders.  
“What the hell is happening to me?” Stiles’ voice came out as a whisper. And me? I thought, though I said nothing. His emotions flowed through me as if I was him.  
“We’ll figure it out.” Scott promised. “You’re going to be okay.” We all stood up and returned to class, though it was useless as the bell rang minutes after we returned. Stiles went to speak to Allison while Scott and I headed to his locker.  
“Are you okay?” Scott asked, watching me. “Every time something weird goes on with Stiles, your emotions go out of control. More than they do with Allison and I.”  
“I don’t know. It’s like I become Stiles when something goes wrong with him. Not only do I feel his emotions, but I feel...angry too. There’s always some anger.” I admitted, inspecting my leather jacket.  
“We need to help Stiles. The key to fixing you is fixing Stiles if what Deaton said is correct.” Scott ran his hands through his hair.  
Scott’s head suddenly shot up, as if he was listening to something.  
“Stay here.” He told me, holding his palm out.  
“Fuck no.” I shook my head, slapping his hand away as I followed him down the hall. He rolled his eyes and entered the boys’ locker room.  
“Did you forget your masculinity in here or something? Why are we here?” I raised a single brow. A snarl rippled through the locker room, answering for Scott.  
“Kira’s in here. I’m going to go get her.” Scott whispered, panic-stricken.  
“Shit!” I cursed. The werecoyote spun on its paws and stared at me. She bared her teeth before charging towards me. Scott stared wide-eyed, stopping his journey to Kira.  
“Get Kira!” I hissed. “Don’t worry about me.” I raised my foot and drove it across Malia’s face as she leapt forth. She yelped and skidded across the ground. After studying me, she ran to where Scott had gone.  
“Incoming.” I alerted him, low enough that Kira wouldn’t hear. I ran after the werecoyote, who lead me to Kira and Scott. Malia’s paws moved softly on the ground. Had I not been watching her, I never would have known she was moving. Making eye contact with Scott, I shooed Malia away. She ran towards an object in the corner of my eye. She was quick, but so was I. I somersaulted towards her, tackling her. While she growled, the backpack she went after dropped from her jaws. I glared down at the coyote who gave up. Her tiny jaws clamped onto my hand, resulting in her nose being smashed in by my fist. I cursed at the bite as she released a loud yelp.   
“Ow! Bitch!” I growled. Her sandy ears pinned against her head and she retreated, leaving the torn backpack of Stiles Stilinski on the floor. What was more surprising than her attack, was the wound she left. Black smoke erupted from the bite and when it cleared, there was no longer a wound. Not a single mark. A gasp escaped my lips as I stared at my hand, wondering if I was hallucinating.  
“A few students reported seeing it running across the field to the woods. Thankfully, nobody got hurt.” Sheriff Stilinski told Scott, Stiles and I once the police arrived on the scene. Stiles had raced over once he heard the news.   
“What if she does hurt someone?” Stiles asked his father and to my surprise, I rolled my eyes at his question. Irritation bit at me, Stiles’ presence the cause.  
“Most likely, someone will have to put it down.” Sheriff Stilinski responded.  
“It?” I asked incredulously.  
“Her.” Stiles corrected. “Don’t forget there’s a girl in there. A girl that you’ll be killing.”  
“Don’t be a murderer. That’s not a life you want, buddy.” I told him.  
“You’re not back to not-believing, are you?” Stiles frowned.  
“I believe that there are a lot of things I don’t understand yet but that doesn’t mean that everything is possible.” Stilinski sighed. “Now. Are you one hundred percent sure that there’s a girl in there?”  
“Yep.” I confirmed.  
“Yes because Scott’s sure.” Stiles nodded. I narrowed my eyes at him before speaking.  
“I don’t even think we should bring her back. She’s one hundred percent a confirmed bitch and it’ll be worse when she can speak.” I thought about my wound which had disappeared completely.  
“What?” Stiles stared at me, clearly unimpressed that I wasn’t on board with ‘Team Save Malia’.  
“She bit me!” I hissed.  
“I don’t see a bite.” Sheriff Stilinski commented, examining my hand.  
“It disappeared.” I admitted, remembering what had happened.  
“You mean it healed?” Scott, who had been staring at Kira this whole time, finally turned to us.  
“No! I mean, I don’t know.” I confessed. “It was like smoke came out of the bite and suddenly it was gone.”   
“We need to tell Deaton.” Scott decided. I nodded, not saying anything else. Stiles spoke instead, approaching his torn backpack.  
“I think I know what she was after.” He opened the backpack and his hand disappeared into the bag. When his hand returned from the backpack, it was accompanied by a child’s doll.  
“You took it from the car?” Scott asked, staring at the doll.  
“Idiot.” I sighed, rubbing my temples with annoyance. He just couldn’t do anything right, could he?  
Scott watched me, concern written on his face.  
“You okay?” He asked.  
“Just a bit irritated.” I responded, hoping he understood what I meant. I didn’t understand why Stiles was annoying me more often, but I hoped it would stop.  
“Anyways, I thought you could use it for a scent or something.” Stiles muttered, his eyes watching me with what I thought looked like pain. Great. Now I hurt his feelings because I don’t have control of my emotions.  
“Where did you get that?” A frantic voice asked, coming closer to us. I looked up to see Malia’s father as he grabbed the doll from Stiles’ hand.  
“EBay.” I replied.  
“It was my daughters.” Tate frowned, staring at the doll.  
“Mr.Tate. I’m sorry, but you’re not supposed to be here. I don’t know how you heard about this. If you have your own police scanner or what, but you can’t be here.” Sheriff Stilinski intervened. He placed his hands on Tate to gently remove him from the locker room. The Sheriff stiffened as his hands came into contact with a hidden shape under Mr.Tate’s clothes.  
“I have a permit.” Malia’s father defended himself. He has a gun, I realized. I pushed Stiles behind me to protect him, glaring at Tate.  
“California schools are gun-free zones, permit or not. You need to leave now, Mr.Tate.” Stilinski warned him. Tate looked like he was about to protest, but caught himself.  
“Why is he still here?” I asked Scott, staring at the gun shape in Tate’s clothes.  
“You find that animal. You find t-that thing!” Malia’s dad ordered.  
“Will do.” I nodded.  
“Kayla-” Scott protested.  
“Hey! He said find not kill. I promise I won’t kill her...unless she deserves it.” I held my hands up. I would never kill anybody, good or evil, but I liked to keep my friends on their feet.


	5. Werehorse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The entire pack - Scott, Stiles, Kayla, Lydia, Allison, Isaac - put their plan into action to turn Malia back into a human. Kayla discovers more about her abilities.

**04\. Werehorse**

Scott, Isaac, Stiles and I stood in the vet clinic with Dr.Deaton, trying to formulate a plan to stop Malia.  
“Xylazine.” Deaton held up a small bottle. “It is a tranquilizer for horses.”  
“It’ll help with the werehorse problem greatly.” I acknowledged.   
Deaton let out a small chuckle before continuing, “For a werecoyote, expect it to work within seconds. I only have three so whoever is shooting needs to be a damn good shot.”  
“Oliver Queen.” I smirked.  
“Great. Contact Oliver.” Deaton smiled.  
“Deaton, she was being sarcastic. Oliver Queen is the Green Arrow. He’s a vigilante archer from the DC Universe.” Stiles laughed.  
“I mean, I only watch the TV show but yeah, he’s fictional.” I shrugged.  
“Deadshot never misses, too.” Stiles, added.  
“Okay, stop. I don’t read comics or play video games. I know Deadshot from his appearance in Arrow and that’s it. He was quite the loser in that show.” I raised my eyebrows.  
“Deadshot is legendary!” Stiles gasped.  
“Ah, comic books. Well, you better find a real person.” Deaton chuckled lightly.  
“Allison. She’s a perfect shot.” Scott suggested.  
“She used to be.” Isaac corrected him.  
“She can do it.” Scott defended his ex-girlfriend.  
“Assuming we can even find the thing.” Isaac commented.  
“Okay. What’s the point of him? Seriously, what is his purpose? Aside from the persistent negativity and the scarf. I mean, what’s up with the scarf anyways? It’s sixty-five degrees out.” Stiles glared at Isaac.  
“He’s here because we broke him out of the police station last year.” I reminded Stiles. “And he lives with Scott. We can’t just leave him home like an unwanted, annoying little brother.”  
“Thank you?” Isaac raised a single brow, not sure if I complimented or insulted him. “Look, maybe I’m asking a question nobody here wants to ask. How do we turn a coyote back into a girl when she hasn’t been a girl for eight years?”  
“Imagination.” I waved my arms into the air, creating an invisible arc. Isaac and Scott scowled. “Don’t like that answer? Fine. You’re a wizard, Scotty. Use your magic wolfy wand and magic the shit out of the coyote until poof! A girl appears!” I rolled my eyes at the boys.  
“Or you could ask S.T.A.R labs?” I added. I could almost hear the blank, silent stares of the four males in front of me.  
“What?” Scott asked in disbelief.  
“The Flash.” Stiles replied. “You watch that show?”   
“The new one, yes.” I nodded.  
“You usually don’t like superhero stuff.” Stiles commented.  
“But I do like the shirtless scenes in Arrow and Grant Gustin has a nice face...a very nice face.” I shrugged.  
“Better than my face?” Stiles frowned.  
“Hmmm....no.” I decided, grinning at him. Stiles quickly kissed me before turning to the others who seemed equally confused and horrified.  
“Seriously, how do we turn her back?” Isaac asked.  
“I can do it.” Scott announced.  
“You can?”  
“Remember the night Peter trapped us at the school?” Scott started.  
“No.” Isaac shook his head.  
“Dude, he wasn’t there. Neither was I. I didn’t feel like joining your little Hardy Boys adventure so I stayed home.” I replied.  
“Anyways...In the gym, he was able to make me turn using just his voice. Deucalion did the same in the distillery.” Scott explained.  
“This is a werecoyote, Scott.” Alan Deaton reminded him. “Who knows if it’ll even work if you can find someone to teach you.”  
“I guess I could try on my own, but I’m too scared to transform right now.” Scott admitted.  
“You are literally a scared puppy, Scott.” I commented, picking up a syringe in my hands. The plastic wrapping crinkled as Deaton took it from my hands and put it back where I got it from.  
“What?” He tilted his head at me.  
“See? Look, you just tilted your head...like a puppy. You look like a puppy and you’re scared to shift. Scared puppy.” I explained.  
“We need a real alpha.” Stiles sighed before rewording himself when Scott glared at him. “You know what I mean. An alpha who can do alpha things. You know, an alpha who can get it going. You know, get it…”  
Say ‘you know’ one more time, Stiles. I telepathically dared him. He, of course, couldn’t hear me.  
“Up?” Isaac offered, completing Stiles’ sentence.  
“Scott’s not the only one with that issue.” I murmured, snickering to myself.  
“What?” Stiles whipped around. Isaac and Scott chuckled, causing to me to earn a glare from Stiles.  
“I couldn’t help myself.” I shrugged.  
“Is there anyone besides Derek who could help?” Deaton asked. Scott had tried to call Derek several times, but he hadn’t picked up.  
“I wouldn’t trust Peter.” Isaac replied.  
“Said everyone ever. Smart boy.” I gave Isaac a thumbs up. He grinned at me and I returned his grin.  
“Maybe the twins?” Stiles suggested.  
“They’re not alphas anymore. After what Jennifer did, almost killing them? It broke that part of them.” Dr.Deaton explained.  
“Yeah, but what if they know how to do it?” Stiles countered.  
“Nobody has seen them for weeks.” Scott pointed out.  
“Actually, that’s not totally true.” Stiles spoke.  
“Lydia?” I guessed.  
“That’s the one.” Stiles nodded. Scott called Lydia, asking her to contact the twins.  
“This sucks. I hate the twins.” I muttered to Isaac.  
“We don’t have to like them. We just have to get Scott to shift.” He responded.  
“This better work.” I sighed.  
Lydia, Isaac, Scott, Stiles and I arrived at Derek’s loft. The space was empty, not a single person in sight.   
“They said they’d meet us here.” Lydia frowned.  
“Can’t trust twins that used to get naked with each other just to combine into one giant twin creature.” I commented. Suddenly, Scott was flying backwards. The twins stepped out from the shadows, grinning at one another.  
They continued to beat on him, throwing the little alpha around the loft.   
“I thought you guys were gonna teach me how to roar!” Scott protested, shielding his face with his hands.  
“We are. You do it by giving in.” One of the twins responded.  
“That’s the plan? Kick my ass?” Scott gasped. They threw more punches until I finally had enough of watching them pummeling my alpha.  
“Hey!” I shouted at the twins. “I’m the only one who does that!” Though that wasn’t actually true, I just wanted them to stop hurting Scott.  
“You beat him up?” Aiden, wait maybe Ethan, asked. I couldn’t tell those two apart. I guess it didn’t matter because I hated both of them. I just hoped Lydia and Danny could tell them apart considering they are each romantic with one of the twins.  
“No, but I’ll beat you up. Now, I can’t tell which of you is Mega-Douche and which of you is Not-As-Douchey, but I hate you both so I’ll just beat you both up.” I cracked my neck to add effect, hoping I looked a least slightly more tough. “Maybe I’ll hit you hard enough to make you combine into Megatwin again.”  
The twins belted out laughter, looking at each other as if it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. I raised my eyebrow at the twins, calmly walked towards them. Letting my strange powers take over, I jumped into the air while spinning and launched my foot into both of their faces. Blood oozed from their noses as I landed gracefully.   
“You can’t beat everyone up, Kayla.” Stiles sighed.  
“Okay, but they were beating the shit out of Scott.” I defended.  
“Your eyes are green again.” Scott announced. I furiously blinked, trying to clear the green.   
“Stupid Derek.” I growled as soon as my eyes went back to normal.  
“Derek?” One of the twins asked as he spat, blood landing on Derek’s floor.  
“What does he have to do with your eyes?” The other asked.  
“He bit her.” Scott answered.  
“You agreed to it.” Isaac reminded me.  
“I know. I just wish he hadn’t offered.” A sigh left my lips.  
“Anyways, I thought you wanted our help.” Douche Twin spoke.  
“Yeah, to help him roar. We didn’t exactly want you to beat the absolute shit out of him. How is that helping?” I frowned.  
“She’s right.” The Twin which I assumed was the Lesser Douche.  
“What?” Douche Twin asked incredulously. “They asked for help, so I helped.”  
“You help too much.” Lesser Douche told him. I made my way over to Scott and helped him stand. He nodded at me as a thank you.  
We all stood in the forest, where we were going to go after Malia. Scott, Stiles, Lydia, Allison, Isaac, and I faced each other, grouping up so we had someone to go with us. Scott would go alone to face off against Malia. Stiles, myself and Lydia were to look around for Malia. Basically we were the useless group who was here just for the hell of it. Then, Allison and Isaac would use the tranquilizer.   
We split up in our mini groups and my group started walking towards the center of the forest. I threw my hair in a ponytail, annoyed that it was in my face. Stiles’ phone rang and he quickly pressed it to his ear.  
“It took the doll again? What the hell is so important about the doll?” Stiles asked. A faint mumbling sounded from the phone. Stiles mumbled in response, hanging up the phone.  
“Why would she go all the way to the school and then all the back to the house just for a doll? We didn’t even find it in the den.” Stiles turned to us.  
“I dunno.” I shrugged, shoving my hands in the pocket of my black leather jacket.   
“Maybe she likes it. Who cares?” Lydia sighed.  
“She likes the doll a lot.” Stiles agreed.  
“What kind of doll is it?” Lydia asked.  
“I don’t know. A baby doll? You know, with the- I have a picture right here.” Stiles pulled his phone back out of his pocket and showed us a picture of two little girls with a doll in the hands of the smallest child.  
“Which one is Malia?” I asked.  
“The bigger one.” He replied.  
“The little one is her sister?” Lydia asked.  
“Yep.”  
“Stiles, her sister is holding the doll.” Lydia informed him.  
“That would be why she’s obsessed with the damn thing.” I acknowledged.   
“I know where she’s going. Come on.” Stiles began walking and we followed. He grabbed his phone and called Scott.  
When Scott didn’t answer, Stiles left a voicemail, “Scott, it's me, you’ve gotta call me back as soon as you can. It wasn't Malia's doll. It was her sister's. Malia left it at the car for her sister. It's like bringing flowers to a grave. Okay, and we stole the flowers. So, that's all she's trying to do, right. Bring the doll back to the grave, to the car wreck. That's where she's headed. The car wreck.” An almost silent click sounded behind us and then an equally quiet voice.  
“Stiles?” Lydia whimpered. I whipped around to face her, as did Stiles. Under Lydia’s foot sat a monstrous-sized bear trap. The claws on the sides threatened to take her entire calf. My heart stopped as Stiles and I exchanged glances.  
“Oh, fuck.” I gasped.  
“Lydia, don’t move.” Stiles ordered.  
“Look for a warning label.” Lydia instructed us.  
“A warning label?” Stiles asked.  
“Instructions on how to disarm it.” Lydia explained.  
“Why the hell would they put instructions on the trap?” Stiles raised his eyebrow.  
“Stiles.” Lydia sighed. “Animals can’t read.” I rolled my eyes at him.  
“Neither can I.” Stiles frowned.  
“Kayla can!” Lydia growled.  
“Seriously, this is stupid.” I marched over to Lydia.  
“Kayla, what are y-” Using both hands, I launched them against Lydia’s side at the same time I slammed my own boot against the trap. She squeaked as she landed on the grass, unharmed by the trap. Just as she hit the ground, the jaws of the trap clamped down on my leg. They swung closed, gripping my calf as if the trap were a boa, my leg a rabbit. A scream ripped through me as blood splattered down my boot. My eyes met with Stiles’. His caramel ones stared into mine, filled with true fear. Tears prickled in my eyes, but I would not cry. I had never cried in front of any of them, and I was determined to keep it that way. Lydia had tears brimming along her eyes as well. She crossed over to where Stiles stood.  
“The instructions.” Lydia reminded him, her voice shaking.  
“Forget them.” I heard myself growl, but those words had never entered my mind. I looked down at the grotesque image of my leg. Torn flesh hung where the teeth had serrated through. Blood leaked down, staining my beautiful boots but the blood wasn’t just red. Black blood oozed from the wound, too.   
“Why is it black?” Stiles asked. A roar sliced through the air, filling my ears. My eyes burned with heat and I could feel myself growing stronger, as if I could take on the entire alpha pack that had invaded Beacon Hills. I crouched down and grasped the jaws of the trap.  
“Your eyes...Kayla, we’ll look at the instructions. Just...keep calm, okay?” Stiles attempted to soothe me. It was almost like his voice injected into my veins like steroids.   
“No instructions!” My mouth screamed, though I had no control. I felt like I could destroy tanks and cities, demolishing anything in my path. Gripping the jaws, I pulled. Snap! I tore the jaws apart, throwing them across the forest on either side of me. The two pieces whooshed as they flew through the chilly air. I panted, like you would after running a marathon or if someone had just destroyed a possession of yours.   
Thick, black smoke seemed to dive towards my torn leg, filling it like it had when Malia had bitten me. Dull green light timidly poked through the smoke, trying to be seen. The smoke quickly vanished, leaving behind a perfectly healed leg. Holes still remained in my boots and pants, as did the black and red blood. The heat in my eyes seemed to abandon me as did the rage that powered me before.   
My eyebrows pulled together as I stood. Stiles’ hands steadied me as I almost fell backwards.  
Clutching onto Stiles’ hoodie for support, I whispered, “What the hell is happening to me?”


	6. Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kayla decides to test out certain aspects of her mysterious abilities. Stiles and Scott accompany her, finding her methods quite strange.

**05\. Ink**

“Let’s go find Scott,” Stiles decided after a moment of silence. I nodded in agreement, pulling away from Stiles. I walked ahead, keeping an eye out for more traps. The traps are probably well hidden, I decided.  
I trudged further away from them, ignoring them calling my name with suggestions of sticking together. I located Scott after calling out his name and hearing his reply. As Scott came into view, so did an ass. No, not a donkey and not Scott himself. There was literally a bare ass belonging to a shivering girl. She clung to the forest floor, completely naked. Her hair was disheveled and matted. Her head whipped around as she looked around, her eyes wide with alarm.  
“Is that Malia?” I asked, realizing who this naked chick was.  
“Yeah,” Scott confirmed. Malia spun her head around to face me, her eyebrows pushed together.  
“Okay, so she was a coyote for what, eight years? And she has perfectly shaved legs? What the fuck is this?” I motioned toward the girl’s perfect legs.   
Aside from the fear in her eyes, matted hair and wild facial expression, she was beautiful. Her eyes were a muddy brown, her hair the colour of her coyote fur but a few shades darker. Her lips were parted in shock, probably from being a human for the first time in years.   
I still felt too hot from my earlier episode in the trap, so I took my coat off and covered Malia’s chilled body. My coat wasn’t long, but it at least covered her back. No way was her ass, as nice as it was, touching my coat.  
“Sorry, I’m not taking off my pants for you,” I commented just as Stiles and Lydia caught up.  
“That’s Malia?” Stiles gasped, having a similar reaction to me.  
“Yeah,” Scott breathed. Stiles called his father and eventually, the Sheriff arrived. He threw his coat, which was much larger than mine, around her.  
The Sheriff took Malia to Tate’s house after sorting everything out at the department. Both Henry Tate and Malia had been very pleased with their reunion. After the reunion, Stiles, Lydia and I decided to tell Scott and the others about my episode.  
“What did you feel when you broke the trap?” Scott asked after we filled him in, staring at me as if he’d just seen a three-eyed chimp. Who knows? Maybe he had.  
“I suddenly felt...strong. I felt like I could take on anything or anyone. I remember feeling really angry, too. Absolutely furious. I could feel my eyes glowing and then suddenly I was gripping the trap and screaming words that I wasn’t even saying, by the way. I didn’t think those words up. I think these powers are controlling me,” I explained.  
“And nobody controls me. No one could handle this bitch,” I added to hide the fact that I was actually quite scared.  
“We’ll figure this out.” Scott promised.  
“I hope so because that certainly wasn’t the best time of my life. You definitely wouldn’t find Patrick Swayze and what’s-the-bitch dancing to that shit.” I sighed, slipping my coat back on. I had gotten it back after Stilinski gave her his coat to wear. My eyes travelled down to Scott’s bare arm, where two thick black bands clung.  
“Did it hurt?” I asked him.  
“What, the tattoo?” his eyes followed mine to where his tattoo was.  
“Yeah,” I nodded. “The first time you got it.” Scott had gotten his tattoo done at a tattoo parlour but because of his werewolf healing, it healed and disappeared. He instead went to Derek, who had a triskele tattooed in between his shoulder blades. Derek’s method had worked, but it had hurt Scott immensely. Let’s just say it involved a blowtorch.  
“Kind of. I mean, after awhile it started to dull.” He replied.  
“Do you think the needle would work for me? I think I’d heal, too. I’ll be fucking pissed if I sit for a few hours getting shit done and then all of a sudden, bibbity-bobbity-fucking-boo, it is gone.”  
“Test it out. Get something small and if it fades, then go to Derek for what you actually want. If you want a tattoo, that is,” Allison spoke up.  
“Damn right, I want a tattoo. You watch, by the time I’m twenty, I’ll be fucking covered in tats. I’ll be one of those bad-ass bitches covered in tattoos, head to toe,” I grinned.   
“You’re going to tattoo your head?” Stiles asked.  
“Fuck no. Or my neck. Not happening,” I shook my head. “It’s just a figure of speech.”   
The next day, as a celebration of solving the Malia case, Stiles, Scott and I headed to a tattoo parlour.   
“Seriously, you too?” Stiles sighed.  
“You should get one, too.” I suggested. “You could even get the same as me.”  
“This is just to see if it works, remember?” Scott reminded me. “If it doesn’t work on you, then he’s stuck with whatever you got for his whole life.”   
“Shh. You weren’t supposed to tell him!” I hissed jokingly.  
“What are you getting, anyways? You still haven’t told us,” Stiles asked.  
“You, my frien- you will see,” I replied. I approached the counter and spoke the the employee.  
Finally, I was called over by the tattoo artist to get inked. I told him my idea and he agreed, pulling out brand new equipment. I also asked him to draw out the lines for my main tattoo idea onto my skin, but not tattoo it. He raised his brow, but agreed anyways.  
“How are you liking your ink, kid?” he asked Scott, eyeing Scott’s arm. I suddenly recognized the man as the same guy who tattooed Scott.  
“It’s great. Thanks, man,” Scott nodded.  
“Alrighty, kiddo. You ready?” he turned to me.  
“Please,” I scoffed, holding out my arm. I rested the arm on the table where he told me to. Using black ink, he started the process. My jaw clenched in shock as the needles began attacking my arm, a warm feeling spreading up my arm.  
“Oh god,” I heard Stiles gasp.  
“You guys shouldn’t bring this kid. He fainted last time, too,” the tattoo artist chuckled. I turned to face Stiles and not to my surprise, a thud sounded as he hit the ground.  
“Loser,” I rolled my eyes as I smirked. Turning to the tattooer, I asked, “can you guess which one I’m dating?”   
“I would’ve guessed the one still standing because you’re both tough, but your tone suggests that marshmallow on the floor,” he answered. I held my laughter, not wanting to shake and screw up the tattoo.  
“That would be the one,” I replied with amusement.  
The pain had begun to dull, almost becoming numb rather than like a punch from Wolverine but with needles as claws.  
After the constant needle/cloth alternation, the artist finally released my forearm.  
“All done, sweetheart,” he spoke.  
“Have you seen this tattoo? I’m far from a sweetheart,” I argued then I looked down at my left forearm. There in thick blake cursive, was a four letter word.  
“This is fucking sick, man!” I complimented the tattoo artist. “Thanks!”  
“It’s a word,” Scott told Stiles, who was beginning to stir. Scott couldn’t have been able to see it from where he was, so he moved forward to get a better look.  
“What word?” Stiles mumbled. Scott stepped forth to get a clear view of my forearm, the area just under my wrist.  
“Oh my god,” Scott muttered. “Only you could pull that off.”  
“Thanks, Scotty,” I grinned triumphantly. There on my forearm, was the four letter word in cursive: **FUCK.**


	7. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kayla finds out whether or not her new tattoo will heal.

**06\. Heat**

We departed from the tattoo parlour and I admired my new ink through the plastic cover. It suited me so well.  
“I actually really love this. I’m gonna be pissed if it heals.” I grinned at the word on my forearm. Just as we piled into Stiles’ Jeep, the tattoo began to sting.   
“The adrenaline is wearing off. This shit stings,” I complained. The stinging didn’t last long because it quickly turned into searing pain.   
“Shit shit shit!” I hissed. “Holy mother of Satan. This hurts like a- ow! -bitch!” I grit my teeth and ripped the plastic off of the tattoo. The surrounding skin was black as smoke appeared.  
“Fuck!” I screamed, annoyed at the sight of the smoke. Smoke engulfed the wound and the pain disappeared completely, along with the tattoo.  
“Did it heal?” Scott asked.  
“Yes,” I hissed in response. I looked down at my clear forearm. “Fuck.”  
“Maybe it’s a sign.” Stiles suggested.  
“What?” I glared at him through the rearview mirror.  
“Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. You know, maybe it healed because you weren’t supposed to have that tattoo,” Stiles clarified.  
“Fuck you. I’m going to get that word tattooed all over my fucking body just to piss you off,” I threatened. “Scott, let’s go see Derek.”  
“Derek? You’re getting that done again?” Stiles asked.  
“No, not yet anyways. A different one. My original plan. Maybe I should tattoo ‘fuck’ onto you while you sleep. I’ll put you under anesthesia so you don’t wake up.” I would never even think of seriously tattooing someone in their sleep without permission, but he insulted my ink. Why not let him think I would?  
“You know, the scary part of that is I could totally see you doing that to someone,” Stiles shuddered. We called Derek and arranged a meeting. The location was one we hadn’t been to since Scott got his tattoo for the second time-The Hale house.  
The house had been burned down years ago, though Derek had still lived there. It still stood due to its grand structure, but now decay and abandonment was adding to the char.

♉ ♉ ♉ ♉

I pushed through the front door, which still had the Alpha pack symbol on it. The fire was still plainly obvious, though now there was moss clinging to the walls. Grass broke through the floors and walls, and there were sections of the walls and floor missing. It was like it was when Scott got his tattoo, but now it was several times worse.  
My foot went crashing through a floorboard and I groaned, hoisting my leg back out of the floor.  
“Nice interior decorating. It looks even better than last time. I like the tetanus theme you have going here,” I commented while eyeing the rusted metal in the once home.  
“You might want to be nice to him considering he’s about to burn you with a blowtorch,” Stiles warned.  
“Thanks, Stiles,” Derek nodded. I sighed. I wished there had been someone other than Derek to do this, but he was the only one who knew how.  
“You know, Derek, you should open up a werewolf tattoo parlour,” I suggested. I sat in the chair and brought a piece of paper out of my back pocket.  
“I already had the lines done,” I informed him, taking off my coat. Sure enough, on my left shoulder was the lines for the new tattoo. I just didn’t get it actually tattooed.  
“So, you healed?” Derek asked me.  
“Yep,” I sighed.  
“Maybe we should hold you down like we did Scott,” he suggested. Scott and Stiles nodded, each holding me down. I heard the flick of the blowtorch behind me and I could feel the heat from a distance. Sucking in a deep breath, I told Derek to start. That’s when the screaming pain ripped through my back and shoulder. The flesh underneath the blowtorch instantly charred, filling our noses with the smell of smoke.  
I screamed, much like I had when I broke the trap. The flames darted towards my skin, forever staining my skin. My eyes seared with heat and fury. I knew they were glowing. I struggled under Scott and Stiles’ hold, fighting each of them. I roared in the purest of rage, reaching towards them with my hands struggling to reach their throats.  
“Sorry, Kayla,” Scott murmured before his elbow came flying towards my face. His elbow brought darkness and the pain stopped as I fell unconscious. 

♉ ♉ ♉ ♉

“Kayla,” a distant voice echoed. Then again, but this time louder and someone else’s. “Kayla!” My eyes snapped open and I glared at the three people in front of me. A smirking Derek Hale, a gentle Scott McCall and a cautious Stiles Stilinski surrounded me, staring at me. I suddenly remembered why I was here. Pushing past the three of them while wincing at the moment of my shoulder, I moved towards the mirror that rested on the broken table. I held it behind me, staring at my shoulder. Through the mirror, Derek raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for me to critique his art.  
“Sick,” I quietly approved. Scott and Stiles still stood motionless, staring at me like I was a bomb waiting to go off. I shrugged at them and walked out of the crispy Hale house.   
“Why do you keep looking at me like that? I’m not going to cry if that’s what you’re wondering,” I glared at the two idiots who finally began to follow me out of the house.   
“Just making sure you’re okay,” Scott held his hands up in surrender. “Also, your eyes were glowing again.”  
“Look, I don’t care about my eyes anymore,” I lied. “They’re probably just idiot detectors. If an idiot pisses me off, they glow.”


End file.
